It has been an odd truth of my life that because I generally live without secrets, people assume the non-existent secrets I have must be really bad. Bi, poly, sex-posive: if this is what I’m willing to have out in the open, how horrific are the things I hide? Or so goes the logic.

I’m usually just pretty amused by this, especially when people attempt to tell me “truths” about my life that are anything but. In listening to these dead wrong “truths” however, I have stumbled on (for me anyway) an epiphany: I do have a secret. No, I’m not a secret dominatrix. Nor am I a slut, bereft from the loss of faith in my life, or any of the other wilder things I’ve had guessed at me over the years.

Deep down, I am very shy and awkward. I am also a romantic.

Admitting it like that scares the hell out of me. I’ve told those I’m very close to in the past, but that is significantly different than just admitting it in a public forum.

One person who I told my secret to asked me why I would keep something like that secret. To him, they seemed like lovable and positive traits for a person to possess. To me, they represent my greatest character flaws and points of weakness. Shy and awkward romantics attract users. Both my relationships with my ex-husband and my ex-girlfriend stand as proof of that in my life.

Granted, I have been very fortunate to have the Tims in my life. As people who are generally introverted and nerds to boot, they are used to dealing with shyness in others- and mostly can spot the users.

So that’s it: my one real secret. I wonder if this will change the guesses that get thrown at me. I hope so- maybe next time I’ll get to supposedly have a spy plane.